Losing The Box

The cardboard box floats on the ocean.

The lid is tied down with twine.

The baby oystercatchers feel their cardboard floor growing soggy.

Then pop! Their feet drop through four separate holes.

They paddle, automatically.

Will this help them?

Who knows?

.......

Can we go now? asks Terence. We have to be there when they land.

Unfortunately, says Gaius, that may not happen.

We shouldn't give up hope yet, says Belle.

No, you mustn't, says Francine. Is there anything Albert and I can do to help you?

There is actually, says Belle. Gaius lent his bicycle to Arthur, And I lent mine to Maclou.

Albert looks alarmed. Surely she doesn't expect him to give up his bicycle?

And Terence and Baldy are tired, says Belle.

No we aren't, says Terence.

So perhaps you could give them a lift to Cancale, says Belle. Just drop them at the church of Saint Méen. Maclou will be there, and I'll contact Arthur.

Sure we could, says Francine. They can ride on our cross bars. Come on kiddies! Who's riding with me?

ME! says Baldy, quickly.

So Terence is now stuck with Albert, who coughs.

......

Belle and Gaius start walking.

A most unfortunate happening, says Gaius. We've lost a great deal of time. Not to mention our trained oystercatcher chicks disappearing.

They were hardly trained, says Belle. One could dig holes, the other wouldn't.

I had low expectations of that one, says Gaius.

Sometimes the independent ones are the best leaders, says Belle.

Ah, you are thinking of Arthur, says Gaius. He is independent.

Yes, he is, says Belle. I wouldn't call him a leader.

There you are then, says Gaius.

It seems such a shame, says Belle. Terence and Baldy loved them. And you've lost the box.

Jumping Jupiter! says Gaius.

In the excitement, he had forgotten.

They're babies themselves, says Belle. We should have been more careful.

But Gaius isn't listening. He is looking for his purple pencil.

.......

Francine is chatting to Baldy.

Your mother is nice.

I know, says Baldy. I wish I could find her.

She's just back there, says Francine.

She's not my mother, says Baldy. My mother's made out of a cannon, like me.

Oh, of course, says Francine. Is it fun being made out of a cannon?

Baldy has never pondered this question.

Now he does.

No, says Baldy, it's more fun to be made of cement.

Terence doesn't think so, at this moment.

Albert is making hard work of pedaling. And every few revolutions, he coughs.

So Terence jiggles on the cross bar, and scratches the paint.

And Albert gets shitty.